I CAN'T BE HAPPY WHEN HE'S LIVING HIS DREAMS AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EVEN BEGAN MINE. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT TOGETHER A PORTFOLIO HOW THE FUCK DO I LOSE THIS NEVER ENDING STRING OF CONSTANT DRED BECUASE I CAN'T TALK TO PEOPLE. WHY THE HELL CAN I NOT GAIN ANY CONFIDENCE AND WHY THE HELL AM I SO FED UP WITH LIFE. I CAN'T STOP THINKINGTHINKINGTHINKING ABOUT HOW THEIR LIFE IS GOING TO BE BETTER THAN MINE AND HOW I WILL NEVER MAKE IT IN THE REAL WORLD BECUASE
hey, I can't even make it now
YOU ARE READING
Poems: Aesthete
PoetryHere I churn out my guts for everyone's pleasure, trying to make pain tangible. Trying to make feelings comprehensible. Trying to be somthing.
